


Taking Flight

by CourtingInsanity



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: DMHG - Freeform, F/M, First Kiss, Head Boy Draco Malfoy, Head Girl Hermione Granger, Sassy Hermione, argument leads to kiss, dhr, dramione - Freeform, quidditch pitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-13 23:28:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15375762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourtingInsanity/pseuds/CourtingInsanity
Summary: Hermione is tired of having to collect Draco from the Quidditch pitch every Friday night before their patrol rounds. Draco enjoys getting under Hermione Granger's skin...but on this particular evening, it's our favourite brunette witch tugging on the strings (you'll get that gem after you read hehe). Written because I was plunny-bombed by a fellow Dramione shipper. Much love!





	Taking Flight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writerspassion18](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerspassion18/gifts).



> This came about from a discussion in the Strictly Dramione Facebook group and I blame writerspassion18 for the birth of this one-shot. *blows kiss*
> 
> Hope you enjoy! :D

The grounds were bathed in the pink and gold glow of twilight as Hermione Granger made her way to the Quidditch pitch. From her position striding across the grass, she could just make out the small speck of black whizzing around the goalposts on the far end. As she grew closer, the figure’s platinum blond hair could be seen, tinged an orangey colour from the setting sun. 

 

“Malfoy!” Hermione called when she reached the middle of the pitch. She placed a hand across her brow and lifted her face to the sky; squinting, she located the wizard flying thirty feet above her. He did not stop at the first call of his name, so she tried again. 

 

Blissfully unaware of the witch below who was beginning to show signs of severe irritation, Draco continued on his course, revelling in the sensation of the wind dancing through his hair. He began to spiral higher and higher, and then dove into a neck-breaking dive. A shriek from below finally caught his attention, and he steadied the broom six feet from the ground. 

 

“Granger?” He frowned as he took in the appearance of the brunette witch. Her hands were clamped over her mouth, and her eyes were wide with terror. He bit down on the grin that threatened to spread across his face as he directed his broom downwards, carefully this time. 

 

“It’s time for patrol,” Hermione cleared her throat, trying to calm the thudding in her chest; he looked as if he had been falling - plummeting to his death. 

 

Draco huffed and rolled his eyes. “Five more minutes.” He glanced up and bent his legs, as if intending to take off again. 

 

“You always do this!” Hermione threw her arms wide in exasperation. “You’re eighteen years old and  _ Head Boy _ for Merlin’s sake! I shouldn’t have to come down and fetch you every Friday night!”

 

“Well it was your idea to roster us on patrols Friday nights,” he grumbled. “I was all for palming that responsibility off to the prefects.”

 

It was Hermione’s turn to huff. “You know they can’t be trusted! There’d be parties and students roaming corridors at all hours - it would be chaos!”

 

“Oh no,” Draco raised his eyebrows mockingly, “what a catastrophe - people having fun! Can’t have that now, can we?” 

 

Hermione narrowed her eyes and placed her hands on her hips. “Just, shoulder your broom...whatever you Quidditch people say...and let’s go.”

 

“Just one more lap,” he tugged at his bottom lip, his attempt at a puppy dog expression.

 

“No,” Hermione shook her head emphatically, though Draco was rather pleased to note that her cheeks had taken on a brilliant pink quality. 

 

Draco groaned. “You are the biggest killjoy I’ve ever met; have I told you that?”

 

“Only four times this week,” Hermione said through gritted teeth. “Now hurry up.”

 

“I think I’ll take my time.” 

 

Draco smirked, arching an eyebrow as if to challenge her, and once again bent over his broom as if he meant to take off. 

 

“Did you know,” Hermione spoke quickly, her gaze intent on his face as if she was about to tell him a delicious secret, “that the portrayal of witches on brooms in Muggle art was a euphemism for riding the devil’s cock?” Her sweet smile negated the filth that had fallen from her lips, and it was all Draco could do to remain upright. 

 

To smother his shock, he relaxed back on the seat of the broomstick, and shot Hermione a lewd grin. “What are you waiting for, Granger?” He slid back further, making room in front of him on the handle. Hermione’s eyes widened and the triumphant smile slid from her face. 

 

“I - “

 

“Come on,” Draco gestured in front of him. “I promise I won’t drop you.”

 

“I can’t fly,” she whispered quickly, her hands bunching into fists at her sides.

 

“I didn’t say you had to,” Draco quirked an eyebrow. “I’ll do the flying; you can just enjoy the ride.” He winked, his heart leaping at the reaction this pulled from the terrified witch in front of him. 

 

“You’re disgusting,” she said, though there was less bite in her delivery than she would have liked. 

 

“That I am aware of,” he said, thoroughly enjoying their banter. “What I didn’t know was how positively filthy your mind is, Granger. So,” he squinted at her as if sizing her up, “I dare you to get on this devil’s cock with me; let’s take this hard length of wood for a joy ride - until we both  _ come _ …” 

 

Hermione waited for him to finish the sentence with more interest than she would have liked for him to witness. After a few seconds, she realised that he had no intention of continuing; he was barely containing his mirth. Draco’s shoulders bobbed with suppressed laughter and Hermione felt determination, and something else she couldn’t place, well up inside her. 

 

“Fine,” she bit out. “But neither of us will be  _ coming _ on a broom...wherever you are concerned, Draco Malfoy, I would like you to know that I prefer to be  _ going. _ ”

 

His smile slipped slightly, but it was back in full force as she straddled the broom, her back pressed against his front. 

 

“Steady,” he murmured into her ear as he leant forward to place his hands over hers. He could feel the tension in them; she was basically strangling the broom. He longed to make another cock analogy, the way she was gripping it, but he bit down on his pun and focused on getting them into the air instead. 

 

He heard her sharp intake of breath as he launched them from the ground. Her form was stiff in front of him, and he could practically sense her fear rolling off her in waves. 

 

“Open your eyes,” he whispered as they levelled with the tops of the goal posts. He could not see, of course, whether Hermione’s eyes were in fact closed, but he imagined that they were. 

 

Another gasp. 

 

“See? It’s not so bad.” He began to steer them around the edge of the Quidditch pitch. From up here, the vast Hogwarts grounds seemed small and insignificant in comparison to the neverending sky. They could see the small village of Hogsmeade in the distance, as well as the lake, and the tips of the trees in the Forbidden Forest. 

 

“Take me down.” He barely heard it as they neared the halfway point. “Please, Draco.”

 

It was the first time he had heard her use his first name - without it being followed by his surname, that is - and it shocked him, the effect it had on his chest. It was as if his heart had contracted and expanded at the exact same time, stretching and squeezing against his ribcage. 

 

Without protest, he did as she asked and steered them carefully towards the lush green lawn. As the ground came up to meet them, he instinctively took one hand from the broom and wove it around her waist to steady her. Their feet found solid ground, and Draco kept his arm around her to lessen the impact. 

 

He expected her to drop the broom as if it were made of lava, but Hermione remained frozen. 

 

“Granger?” He whispered in her ear, afraid that anything louder may startle the witch. 

 

She was still pressed against him, one of his arms around her middle. From this position, he could feel every tremor as it passed through her body, and transferred to his. He swallowed against the lump in his throat; it was just meant as some harmless fun...this was the Brightest Witch of their Age, she was fearless - or so he had thought. 

 

“Granger? You can let go of the broom now...I’ve got you.” He took his other hand from where it was still resting on top of hers and wound it around her waist, so that he was hugging her from behind. “Let go, Granger…I’ve got you...we’re on the ground now.”

 

He continued to whisper in her ear until he felt the tremors subside slightly, and then the broom dropped to the ground between their legs. Hermione let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob, and while it definitely wasn’t the reaction he had been hoping for, Draco felt relief wash over him at the sound. 

 

“You did really well,” he moved to stand more comfortably behind her, balancing her weight; he feared that if he moved, she would collapse. “I’m sorry if I went to far...I didn’t realise you were so scared of flying. To be honest...I couldn’t picture you being scared of anything. It’s nice to know you’re human.”

 

Without warning, Hermione turned and slapped him on the chest.

 

“Ow! Hey - !” He caught her wrist in his hand, effectively protecting his person from another attack. “That’s no way to treat someone who just saved your life, Granger!”

 

“You didn’t bloody save me!” She replied hotly, though she was no longer trying to hit him. “You almost killed us!”

 

Draco began to laugh at the absurdity of her accusation, but quickly turned the sound into a hacking cough at the look of rage on the Head Girl’s face. “Hey,” he smirked. “It’s not my fault; you wanted to ride on the devil’s cock.”

 

Hermione growled, her eyes flashing. She opened her mouth to retort and Draco felt an oddly pleasant sensation bloom in his chest at the way she was looking at him...but then she turned on her heel and began striding away across the lawn. 

 

“Hey!” Draco bent quickly to pick up his broom and then jogged after her. “Granger!” He called, but she did not stop. He slowed to a walk, his brow furrowed. “Hermione!” He tried. 

 

Hermione stopped in her tracks, her body lurching as if he had placed a jinx on her feet. She did not turn around, but Draco was pleased that he had managed to stop her from fleeing. 

 

“You are honestly the most infuriating witch I’ve ever had the misfortune of knowing.” He grumbled as he came to stand in front of her. Hermione’s face resembled a thundercloud; Draco swore he actually saw a flash of lightning cross her features, and he internally chastised himself for his poor choice of opening. “What I mean is…”

 

“Save it, Malfoy,” she spat. “I know what this was.” She waved a hand between them. “I goaded, you pushed, I accepted the challenge. I’m not going to apologise. You are the most childish, obnoxious wizard  _ I  _ have ever had the misfortune of knowing.”

  
Draco scowled. “I was just trying to do something nice, Granger. I thought you could use a little unwinding, the way you’re always strutting about as if you have a wand up your arse.”

 

“Me?” Hermione squeaked indignantly. “How about  _ you _ with that broom always between your legs! Swaggering about as if you own the place!”

 

“Jealous, Princess?” He spat the endearment. “Maybe if you rode more devil’s cock, you wouldn’t be so uptight!”

 

“Are you offering to let me ride  _ your  _ devil’s cock, Malfoy?” Draco knew that she meant to goad him into further argument, but it was clear his favourite appendage had missed the message as it twitched in his pants. 

 

Before he could think about what he was doing, he had dropped his broom to the ground and stepped forward with a low growl. He gathered the source of his irritation in his arms and continued to move, despite her protests. Hermione felt her back hit the stone wall of the castle, but she did not have time to react as Draco pressed his front against hers. 

 

“I’m not the bastard you think I am,” he hissed through gritted teeth. Hermione’s eyes widened as she registered desire rather than anger reflecting in his silver orbs, and a foreign feeling of intense heat bloomed in her lower abdomen. “If you tell me to stop, I will stop...but otherwise,” his gaze dropped to her lips and she instinctively licked them, “I’m going to kiss you now.” 

 

Her veins felt as if they were transporting electricity rather than blood, and she did not hesitate as she nodded. He was impatient, but also gentle as he claimed her lips with his own. To Hermione’s surprise, his mouth was soft and warm...not at all like the unforgiving marble she would have imagined. 

 

One of his hands gripped her waist, his finger tips grazing the hem of her school jumper to ghost over the skin beneath it, leaving trails of fire in their wake. The other cupped her face, angling it towards him as he controlled the kiss. Still reeling from the sudden turn of events, Hermione remained frozen until the blond wizard flicked his tongue over her bottom lip, seeking permission. She granted it, unsure at this point whether she was acting out of curiosity or good old fashioned want. 

 

He gripped her tighter and revelled in the soft moan she emitted as his tongue entered her mouth. Finding her confidence, Hermione moved her arms to snake behind his head, her hands threading into the soft strands of hair at the base of his neck. She used this as leverage to arch herself into him, and she smirked against his lips as a groan rumbled in his chest. 

 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a very long time,” he murmured against her lips as they both came up for air, panting. 

 

“Oh?” Hermione pulled back slightly and arched an eyebrow. 

 

“Why do you think I come out here before our patrols?” He smirked. “If I don’t completely exhaust myself from flying, I can’t be sure that I won’t have my way with you against a dungeon wall.” 

 

His gravelly tone sent a shiver of pleasure up Hermione’s spine, and she leaned subconsciously back into him. Her lips found his again and she hummed in contentment when he returned the kiss, but he did not deepen it and pulled back much sooner than Hermione would have liked. She pouted and he squeezed her hip, smirking. 

 

“Come on, Granger,” he said, stepping further away from her. The sudden loss of contact left her feeling cold. “We have a patrol to complete.” Draco retrieved his broom and then offered her his hand; she accepted, relishing the thrum of electricity as it sparked between their palms. 

 

“You could have told me,” she said as they made their way back to the castle, though as the words fell from her lips Hermione cringed at the realisation that they weren’t strictly true. 

 

Draco scoffed. “You would have squealed and run away.”

 

“I didn’t tonight,” Hermione pointed out, her tone indignant. 

 

“Ah,” he stopped walking as they approached the steps which led to the front door. “But that was because you just couldn’t resist my devil’s cock.” He grinned as a warm blush crept up her cheeks. 

 

“You’re disgusting,” she screwed up her nose. 

 

“Pot, kettle,” he pointed first at herself and then at his chest. “Let’s not forget that you taught me the term...Muggles,” he shook his head in mild amusement, “such odd yet endearingly witty folk.” 

 

Hermione rolled her eyes and mounted the steps. She placed her palms flat on the rough surface of the door and was ready to push when she was suddenly grabbed from behind. She squealed as her back replaced her hands against the wood, Draco’s hands moving quickly to cup her face and angle it towards his. 

 

“One more before we hit the dungeons; I can’t promise it’ll tide me over, but it will prevent it from happening in a more public setting.” Though his tone was lustful, Hermione could tell that he was waiting for her permission. She quirked the corners of her mouth into what she hoped was a flirty smile in lieu of an answer; he understood. 

 

And then his lips were on hers again, moving quickly as if he were about to run off at any minute. Hermione clung to him, her hands fisted in the front of his school robes. Stars appeared behind her closed eyelids; it was all she could do to keep up with him. 

 

Too soon, he pulled away before dropping a chaste kiss on her forehead. “More later,” he promised, and took her hand again. She knew her grin was an obvious sign of what they had just been doing on the other side of the door, but as she crossed the threshold and entered the castle, she found that she didn’t much care what anyone else thought. 

 

Draco Malfoy was a snarky, spoiled, childish pain in her arse; but he was also a really good kisser. 

  
  



End file.
